


you drew stars around my scars

by vilelac



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Dancing, Dorks in Love, Emotional Constipation, F/M, Festival, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, I wrote this entire things thanks to that song, Post-Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, Romance, This was born after I listened to Cardigan by Taylor Swift, because honestly my irl is killing my time, let's pretend English is my first language, no beta we die like roy's mustache
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:09:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29700357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vilelac/pseuds/vilelac
Summary: "Dance with me." Winry's voice echoes in the night.Edward stops walking, his hands inside his pocket. "There’s no music,"She feels brave enough to take a step closer and extend her hand.  "There is in my head."Or:Fluffy Edwin set in the two years before the train station.
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Winry Rockbell, Edward Elric/Winry Rockbell
Comments: 19
Kudos: 24





	you drew stars around my scars

**Author's Note:**

> One day my mind will stop thinking about Edwin. But today, is not that day. Here's another self indulgent fic I wrote thanks to Taylor Swift. Enjoy this baby 💖

Winry's standing behind Al, scissors in her hands when she notices him staring down a flyer. It's white and blue, it has a shepherd in the middle of it and big letters and numbers. She pushes Al's head a little down, exposing his nape a little more so she can cut clearly. Since they came back, over a year ago, Al has been adamant in cutting his hair every month, not letting it slide one day more. When Winry got him trying to cut his hair on his own, crunched in the bathroom mirror, she took upon herself to perform the task. She has the feeling it's because the position for _long hair Elric_ has been filled. 

“Who cut your hair?” She asks, another chunk of golden locks falling in the wooden deck. The sun was starting to get down, the orange rays filling the blue sky on top of them. In the last minute, Winry decided it would be better to cut his hair on the porch, enjoying the rest of the natural light left in the day. “You know, when you.. came back.” 

“Oh, Lieutenant Hawkeye.” Al’s voice is cheerful when he answers. “She offered while I was still at the hospital. Apparently, she has experience with short hair.” 

“I suppose she does.” Winry remembers the first time she met Miss Riza and her hair so short her entire nape was exposed. 

After a few minutes of silence, Winry notices Al’s focused eyes again. 

"What are you staring so hard for? It's just the Sheep Festival." She says, sliding the scissors against his skin. It used to be boney before, the first time she did this. But after a year of eating stew and three people piling him up with food every hour of the day, Al finally gained some weight. 

"Yes," His voice is.. uncertain. Maybe a little doubtful. "It's been so long, since we went to one of these. I think mom was still alive." 

Winry only hums at that. She remembers going to the festival, the three of them together, Trisha carrying around their coats while they danced playfully in the barn, they ate corn in a spike, cotton candy; their hands so sticky with sugar, Trisha would wash them with a bottle of water. 

The sound of chopping wood attracts Winry’s eyes. Not far from them is Edward, in a white tank top, pulling an axe up and down, chopping wood into small pieces for the last hour. From that distance, Winry could see the sweat on his skin, the tanned arm muscles ripping with the strength of every moviment. Whenever Ed has bad moods, which was often the first few months when they returned – and for pretty much everyone's surprise, including Winry's, decided to stay – Pinnako decided to put him to work. Edward would spend time with Al in the mornings, studying ancient books or just talking. But in the afternoon, Pinnako would deliver all kinds of orders; to cut the grass, carry the milk, clean the workshop, or go to the station and pick up some new tools. While Alphonse helped chop vegetables and answer the phone when a customer called – pretty fast, he became the responsible for scheduling the automail's appointments. 

The thing is.. Edward has grown. A lot. In the time they were apart, right before the Promised Day, she had noticed how, for the first time ever, he was taller than her. But now, after one year of sleeping well, eating delicious food and pulling considerable weights, Edward has defined arms, his muscles firm and tanned under the midday sun. 

Last week, when his automail needed an emergency repair because he decided it was s good idea to stick his metal foot against a tree trunk - _It was fallen and my feet is made of metal Winry, how was I supposed to know it wouldn’t handle the wood?_ \- she pulled him down to her work shop and he, in an unconscious decision born of four years of routine, removed his shirt, exposing his torso. 

And yeah. 

Winry had to bite her lips and look elsewhere because he looked _so good_. He has no business, really. In being this handsome around her. He used to stick his hands on his nose and show it to her when they were little, for god's sake. 

Al moves uncomfortably in the chair, his shoulders moving slightly at the motion. She notices he stares at her briefly, then at the ground with a knowing smirk. "Please don't cut my nape while drooling over him."

"Ah, what?" Winry's cheeks blush, suddenly feeling self conscious. "Al!"

He laughs loudly. Every now and then, he does this. Push her buttons when it comes to Edward and then laugh at her exasperated face. Winry wants to be mad every single time, but she can’t because, for a part of her life, she never thought she would _see_ him laugh like that. 

Winry finishes cutting Al's hair, slightly pinching his skin just to keep him on his toes. Pinako joins them, pipe on her mouth. She leans against the wooden frame, watching over as Winry cleans the floor, removing all the golden hair and Al, gently, slides inside the house, looking for the couch. He had a fever not two days ago and since then he has been taking things slow.

Edward walks on the porch, the wooden stairs creaking with his weight, dozens of wooden chops under his arm. He’s sweating like a pig, cheeks flush from the exercise and the afternoon sun. 

"Finally done cutting the firewood?" Pinako moves so Edward can walk inside the house. Winry finished sweeping the floor, dragging the chair Al was sitting inside the house. 

"Yes, you ancient midget. Is not that what you wanted?" Edward snorts halfway through the kitchen. 

"Yes, leave it in the corner. Now," She eyes Winry for a moment before returning to Edward. "Why don't you have a shower? You smell bad."

Edward barely responds, checking on Al for ten seconds before climbing the steps to the bathroom. Winry removes her apron and takes a glass of water; the summer in Resembool makes even the nights too hot.

"Winry, I want to give you something, come here." Pinako takes her upstairs. Inside her room there’s a blue dress hanging in a hanger, ironed and clean. Before she says anything, Winry already knows what her granny wants and she starts to deny it. It’s not that she doesn’t like to wear dresses, she does. But they’re not practical for the day to day life, she has to be aware where she steps and worry about grease stains. And, to be honest, she only needs to wear a dress on the Festival day - she already has a floral yellow one in her closet. But Pinako is adamant; she refutes every time Winry says _no, there’s need for that granny_ but she’s easily convinced when Pinako drops the bomb she’s been holding; _It was your mother’s._ Winry gasps and stares at the dress with new eyes. It's deep blue, a shade darker than Winry’s eyes and it has a belt on the waist, white details on the collar and sleeves. 

Pinako closes the door, silently and Winry touches the fabric lightly, almost in awe. Her mother. Somehow, even though she knows it’s only in her head, she feels a bit closer to her mother. She swallows the tears, puts on the dress and stares at herself in the mirror, her hair tight in a loose ponytail, the dress flows around her ankles, the belt shaping her waist. Winry smiles, trying to picture her mother there, next to her, hands on her shoulders while fixing a non existing thread. In a different universe, their eyes would meet in the mirror and they would laugh together. But tonight, Winry only feels her heart tighten a little at the image. 

When Winry gets down, all the furniture in the room is gone. The sofa has been pushed against the wall and the rest is no longer there, only a small table in the corner with a gramophone ready to be set. 

Winry stares at Pinako when she notices Ed standing there, pouting with his arms crossed

“Hm, what’s happening?” 

“The Sheep Festival. You two need to practice the dance.” Pinako hits her pipe against the flyer near the gramophone to prove a point. 

"Granny.." Winry wines. No this. Not again. 

"Don't you start young lady. You know as much as I do, this is important." 

It’s not. Not really. But Pinako, just like Al, keeps doing this. Finding excuses to put her and Edward in the same room, doing some random chores. 

Winry didn’t mind at first. She liked spending time with Edward without the constant worry for his life, without the urgency to fix, to go, to leave for a new place and leave her behind, not seeing her in months. They used to talk a lot. But since he came back, since the night he couldn’t sleep, when Winry found him on the porch and they sat and talked and cried for hours, since he told her about Baschool, what had transpired and how his first thought to keep moving forward was her and their promise.. well, he had _changed_. She couldn’t quite explain, but she was somehow something changed in the air between them, as if she was more aware of his presence whenever he was nearby. 

“Who says I’m dancing?” Edward snorts, frowning. 

“I am,” Pinako uses _the voice_. The one she commands everyone in emergency situations. “I already signed you two for the dance when Mrs. Ambrose came looking for volunteers and I’m not breaking my word.” 

Ed frowns deeper and Winry just sighs. She already knows there’s no getting out of this. And it’s not like she really cares, when they were young Winry had dance multiple times with both brothers. “Why can’t Al dance with me?” 

“He’s in the pie contest,” Pinako quickly replies. Winry smooths her hand against the blue dress, looking at Alphonse sitting on the corner, smiling wickedly. Edward may be dumb as a door when it comes to reading between the liens but Alphonse doesn’t fool her. _That little shit._

Pinako’s voice snaps Winry’s head. “And you two need to practice, last time Edward stepped on your toe–" 

“That was _one_ time.” 

“And he didn’t even have a metal foot. Imagine the damage now.” 

_She has a point._

Winry sighs, tossing her hair back. “Is the song ready?” 

Pinako walks around the room, the same time Winry turns to Edward. Only then she notices how he’s dressed in a white shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and how he swallows hard, his eyes darting between her and the wall behind. 

The song begins to play and Winry steps closer, Edward grabbing her right hand and her waist. He keeps his distance, his arm almost stretched leaving a space between their bodies. Winry pushes the first three steps, focusing on the feeling of her hands gasping his shoulders, trying not to blush when Pinako’s voice breaks their movement. 

"No, no Winry. You don't lead. Let him." Pinako takes a drag from her pipe as she walks towards Alphonse in the stairs. 

The song starts again, and this time Winry stays still, waiting for Edward. He takes a breath, almost as if centering himself and steps forward, grabbing her waist lightly. He still keeps the distance between their bodies, but this time feels more natural. After a few seconds of feet swingin around the floor, they fall in a comfortable balance.

It feels very natural to move around Edward, to move _with_ Edward. Her body, with years of knowing each other, responds fairly quickly to his rhythm. They step around each other, not even worrying about bumping in the furniture. It feels – like he knows what he's doing. 

"Since when do you know how to dance?" Winry's voice is a little raspy and she's not sure why. 

There's a pause, Edward let's go of her waist to move behind her and then come back. It's a familiar dance, the same dance all Resembool does when it's this time of the year. When he grabs her hand again, there's a glint of amusement in his eyes. 

"Tsc, what do you think they teach us in the military?" Winry laughs, bursting the tension bubble between them. 

She'll never not be amazed about how easy going Edward has become, since coming home. Sure, he's still dense as a brick when it comes to certain things, but more often than not he cracks jokes in the middle of the day, bumps his leg against hers when they're sitting in the couch, teases Al whenever a certain letter from Xing arrives and he's always containing his laughter when Mr. Mustang calls and he answers _Hello, Colonel Mustard_. 

Ed has always been like this, to some degree. Even when things were bad, when the brothers were actually in danger or when the weight of their choices fell on them, Edward would play lightly, brush off any concern with an easy smile. But still. It wasn't like this, it was felt – weighted. Heavy. Like he carried a burden, an invisible weight on his shoulders. One he refused to lose. 

But now. Now, he was a kid again. Now, he was no longer his titles, no longer obeying a commanding officer and no longer desperate to atone his sins. He was exactly what she always saw. 

"That dress is really beautiful." Edward's voice was low, rumbling through his chest. Winry's eyes meet his, looking for amusement. Usually, Edward makes fun of her clothes – particularly the green banda – but not tonight. 

Tonight, his eyes are serious. There's a hint of red on his cheeks and a glow in his golden eyes. 

"Do you think so?" Two steps to the left and one to the right. 

"It was nice on the hanger, but it looks better on you." _On the hanger? When did he–?_ "You should wear it." 

Winry suppress a smile. "I'm wearing it." 

"Right, of course." His eyes roam the space behind her shoulder, shaking his head slightly. They move forward and backwards while he looks everywhere but her. 

"I'm just trying to give you a..."

"A compliment?" Winry smile’s internally. _He’s such a dork._

He clears his throat, nodding. Edward’s red all over his face, clearly embarrassed. Winry pretends she doesn’t see, instead she doesn’t say anything, focusing on their joined hands and their synchronized steps. 

Edward has always been like this. A genius for the alchemical world but a complete idiot when it comes to personal relationships. She remembers very well the day he recited the periodic table just because she was too close from him. 

Winry lifts her eyes, gazing at his face. He is so _so_ handsome. For the longest time, she never noticed that. He has always been around in her life, always picking fights, being the chubby boy pulling her hair in the playground but also beating the Wellie boys when they made her cry. She had never stopped to actually _look_ at him until the Promised Day, when they were arguing and she thought, for the first time, how beautiful he was. 

It's not like she’s blind. She heard the rumors on Rush Valley whenever the boys show up for Edward’s maintenance; girls giggling and whispering about Edward’s face, his hair and sometimes his title. He draws attention - specially female attention, Winry has noticed - whenever he goes, even though he’s completely oblivious to the whole thing. Paninya used to tease Winry about, asking what the blonde thought of the older Elric in comparison to the other boys in town. Winry always shrugged off and teased back, laughing. It wasn’t until she started to spend almost every hour of her day with Edward nearby she realized what Paninya meant, all those years back. 

Now, their situation was completely different. Every slight hand contact when they were together in the kitchen, every minimal embarrassing situation, every eye contact when they were alone, were filled with expectations and promises and insecurities from both sides. Winry doesn’t know how they got there, how they could be so close and at the same time so aggressively embarrassed with one another. 

"I'm feeling a little dizzy." Edward’s voice brings Winry back to reality. She’s staring at him, her eyes switching between his eyes and lips. It takes a moment for her to remember what he said. 

"Kind of lightheaded?" Edward gulps, nodding, stepping back and forward, swinging their bodies together. "Yeah, me too." Honestly, she can barely remember how they danced, her body only moved according to his, almost in a mechanical way. Before he steps right and moves them, Winry plants her feet to the ground, refraining his moviment. "It’s probably from spinning."

"Maybe we should stop." He says with a grave tone, scrunching his brows, uncharacteristically serious. _Did his voice just stutter?_

"We have stopped." Winry chuckles, staring at his eyes. Maybe she can lean a little. Yeah, maybe he won’t even notice. And smell his cologne more and maybe, just maybe, touch his skin with hers, run her fingertips against his collar. She bites her lips. _Shit_. 

“Did you make stew tonight, granny?” Al’s voice breaks the spell. Winry steps back, her cheeks warming, suddenly feeling self conscious. She can’t believe she forgot they weren’t alone. 

Edward clears his throat, pushes his hands inside his pockets and walks toward the kitchen, leaving her behind without a word. As usual, he pretends nothing happened. Maybe nothing did, and she’s just projecting. 

Winry takes a deep breath, rubs her eyes and follows him. 

_How long are we going to do this?_

* * *

Winry feels something bump against her shoulder. She looks down; there’s a small boy, with red hair and dimples smiling apologetic at her, whispering _Sorry miss_ while he walks away to chase his friends. As always the Sheep Festival is running full; there are yellow lights covering the skies, threads of wires connecting the stalls and lighting the place, there’s a bonfire in the middle of the circle with people chatting around it. It has always been one of Winry's favorite times of the year. 

They stroll through the fair, Pinako's age and Al's crutch keeping their pace slow. A bunch of people stop to greet them; some neighbors waive at Winry and Pinako – drink mates, probably – but most of them stop to greet the boys. Ed and Al are, just as much as the Rockbells, children of Resembool. Even though they left at a young age, one of them in a suit of armor and the other as a military, everyone remembers them. They all saw them grow up playing in the fields, walking together to school, helping to contain the river when it rained; everyone remembers the feeling that went through the town when Trisha died and they were alone.

Resembool is a small town, almost a village, so people tend to be closer, to know one another and come together in difficult times. Everyone is a known face. And even in such a place away from the big crowd of Central, people have heard of the boys' activities. They know to some extent that Edward is, for all intentional porpoises, the youngest state alchemist in history; they know their stories and his title of _alchemist of the people._ Winry also knows all their adventures and fame were nothing but consequences; the Elrics never intended to be a known face, like they are now. So when a crowd of late forties men, old ladies and even some young girls stop to greet them, Winry is not at all surprised by their red cheeks. 

Alphonse deals better with all the attention than Edward. He smiles, shakes hands, changes the subject easily when the Promise Day is mentioned. Edward on the other hand only sulks, grunting a few disconnected words when something is asked or becomes angry in a span of two seconds the moment his height is mentioned. When a young brunette - _is that Louise? She used to be in our history class, right?_ \- grabs his arm tightly against her body, Edward’s cheek burns red, he stutters trying desperately to step back and Winry just _knows_ he wants to run from there. 

She chuckles lightly from her place away from the people, raises her hand, calling his name. “Ed, we need to get a table remember? Granny’s waiting for us.” 

Ed’s face relaxes instantly. He untangles himself quickly from the girl’s hands and walks towards Winry. He still says a few words to the people around him but in no time he's next to her, his ponytail swinging and a few drops of sweat running down his face. 

“You said something about a table?” 

“Yeah, granny went ahead but she’s waiting for us.” Winry looks back at Alphonse's easy smile. “Do we.. wait for Al?” 

“Nah, he’s fine.” Edward looks at his brother then back at her. "Let's go, I want to eat the corn pie. It has been years. ” 

She smiles playfully. “I’m sorry, I thought Al was the one with a list of food.” 

Winry steps towards the bonfire, looking at the ground. Thankfully she’s wearing her boots with the blue dress; grass and heels do not work well, and although it's warm, the temperature tends to drop during the night. 

“He’s the one with the journal. I have my own list in my head.” 

They find granny sitting at a small table, pipe in hand and already two pints of beer in front of her. Winry lets her jacket on the chair and points the food stalls to Edward. One of the best parts of the Festival is the food; the whole town gathers around and cooks the typical Resembol dishes. A lot of families work on the stalls and sell their goods; Al almost convinced Winry to put one for her apple pie but she declined at the last minute. It has been so long since she attended one of these, she wanted to enjoy it. She wanted to dance and eat and laugh with the brothers just like they did when they were little. 

Alphonse arrives not much later after she and Edward bring a bunch of food - too much actually for the three of them - to their table. They eat a little, chatting mindlessly just like they do every night. At some point, Al spots the _fun_ part of the festival; the games. Winry can almost hear what Al's thinking when he looks at the ring toss stall. Thirty minutes later, they lost most of their money, Edward is tapping his foot on the ground and almost starting a fight with Mr. Charlie, the owner, and Al and Winry have tears in their eyes, laughing loudly. 

Things calm down easily, and after a while strolling across the ground, trying to decide which stall to stop next, Winry hears someone shouting at her. She turns her head and it takes at least ten seconds to figure it out who is. Nelly, waving at her, from the otherside of the festival, near a bonfire. Winry waves back, excited. It's been a while since they last saw one another, and when she wasn't glued to Ed and Al, she was working on her automails. 

Winry mumbles something to Al, standing next to her in line to buy the cotton candy, and strides towards Nelly. She hugs the small brunette, smiling. Winry feels exhilarated that night; she feels light and warm, and she has not yet drank that beer that grandma has been offering her. Is just– for so long, she thought she wouldn't have this anymore. This instant happiness, this feeling of belonging, her favorite people in the world around her. She had spent days alone, consumed by hard work and greese, and nights haunted by nightmares – one specifically; her, small and scared of the giant armor carrying her best friend nearly dead in the arms. Winry lost count of how many times that memory was repeated in her dreams. 

"Hey there, mechanic girl." Nelly's voice fills her ears once they step back. "I thought I would find you here. Some of the kids are over the bonfire, drinking. Do you want to join us?" 

Winry looks at where Nelly points and she can recognize some familiar faces, some from school back in the day when she attended and some custorms. One in particular, Anthony, waves at her – the hand she designed and installed herself – and she smiles, greeting him. 

"Yeah, sure. It'll be fun." Winry turns her head, staring at the familiar golden eyes; both Edward and Alphonse are a few steps back away from the girls. "What do you think? It'd be nice." 

Alphonse smiles apologetically, while Edward only stares her, lifted chin and pursed lips. "I’d love to but.. I'm gonna head back, Win. I left my drink at the table and I'm feeling a little tired." Al nudges Edward, awkwardly. "But I'm sure brother will like it. Right?" 

"Wrong," Ed snaps without a beat, his eyes roam the fair before settling in on both girls. Winry may be imagining things, but for a moment, when his eyes flicker at something over her shoulder, she can swear he curves his lips and wrinkles his nose – the same thing he does when someone pisses him off but he can't react angrily. "I'm coming back with you." 

Winry sighs. 

Why? 

Why does he need to be so difficult? 

Winry _knows_ he hates these things. Edward hates attention, hates dealing with people he doesn't know – he already has a problem dealing with people he _does_ know, imagine the opposite – but can't he be social for one night? Can't he be a _normal_ kid? Drink and laugh carefree like the eighteen year old he is? 

Winry sighs _again._

No, he can't. He saw too much of the dark corners of the world. Wanting or not, their four year on the road, changed both of them considerably. The first two months, Winry was afraid. She refused to acknowledge for a while, but so many things were different with them. Not only the fact that Al's body was back and Edward had no longer alchemy, but their history, their personality had changed. Before, Al didn't have four years of sleep deprivation and therefore didn't need Edward's or Winry's constant presence on his side for the first months. Before, Edward didn't jump every time a cup fell and shattered on the floor, nor did he go into defensive mode when Winry silently entered a room and caught him by surprise - he grabbed her arm hard the first time and it took at least three seconds to understand that she was not a homunculus. 

They are different. But so is she. 

She had grown so much in those four years, she had changed too, for better and for worse, in some parts. And she also knows that no matter how much things are different for the three of them, they still are very much the same. 

"Well, I'm coming." Winry shrugs, steps fleets and places the money she had been holding in Edward's hand, their fingers touching briefly. She stares at his angular face, the sharp jaw, the white button-down shirt. "I'll come find you before the pie contest. You know where I'll be." 

She links her arm with Nelly's while they stride towards the bonfire. Nelly is already talking about the new teacher and how apparently she's from Mommort, near the North City, so she's not used at all with Resembol's climate, but Winry dozes off, barely paying attention. She turns her head back, briefly, trying to find _him_. But the brothers are almost at their table now, Edward's broad back turned to her. 

She could be wrong. 

Probably.

Maybe she's just imagining things. Again. 

But–

Edward's fingers. The way they touched hers. The glint in his eyes. 

Maybe.

She can't read minds. 

She just can't. 

But if she could, she would read his. 

And she's almost certain he was asking for her to stay.

* * *

"I think Anthony will ask Winry on a date." 

Edward's head snaps at Pinako's voice. 

"He brought her flowers last time."

"He _what_." 

"And he was an hour early for his appointment last week." 

"Hm," Edward says, crossing his arms. He stares at the small group gathered around the bonfire. After a few seconds, he suddenly asks, "He’s taller than me, isn’t he?" 

Al wants to smile but he stops himself. "I think so, brother."

Seeing through Ed’s act perfectly, Al takes a sip of his hot wine. He’s not surprised when he hears a sudden noise from the chair and sees his brother walking with closed fists towards the bathroom. 

Three seconds later, Al looks at Pinako. 

"You’re evil granny." 

"He needs to _wake up_."

"You could’ve just talked to him."

Pinako stares at Al, with one raised eyebrow. “And when does Edward do what he’s told? He only responds when he’s provoked, Alphonse." 

* * *

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> *steve roger's voice* did you guys get that reference? 🙊


End file.
